Star Trek - Nebulous
by Ellster
Summary: An ancient starship, an understaffed space-dock, a captain with a mysterious history and a nebular with a dark secret: It all converges as crisis rises. (Work in progress)
1. Prologue

This is a work in progress. Updates will come as they are finished.

* * *

 **Star Trek – Nebulous**

 **Prelude: That Old Ship Smell**

Jonathan felt the usual sensation of a transporter beam picking him up from the transporter pad of the freighter and setting him down somewhere else. The pad he materialized on looked old, almost archaic actually, he thought when he took a look around. But contrary to the standalone pad that had sent him off, this one belonged to an equally old, but proper transporter room. A room which, apart from him and his luggage, was completely empty.

The lieutenant picked up his bags and stepped down from the pad, ready to find his way around the station himself, when the door opened. The man who came in was about the same height as him and human, the wrinkles on his face centered around creases around his eyes and his short gray hair was already receding on his temples, but he still seemed very fit. The dark red jacket he was wearing loosely over a plain black shirt identified him as a command officer, but it took Jonathan a moment to realize he was wearing the rank insignia of a commodore, since it was missing the gold trimming that was standard for flag officers.

"Lieutenant Jonathan Falk reporting as ordered, sir," he said, and straightened into attention. For a moment he wanted to salute, too, but then decided this would have to suffice, because he didn't want to drop his bag. "Requesting permission to come aboard."

"At ease, lieutenant," the Commodore replied. "And welcome aboard. I am Jason Sora, in command of this starbase. Please excuse my delay, but personnel transfers don't happen all that often around here, so it always puts a little stress on everyone. Now, if you would follow me, I'll show you your quarters where you can store your stuff and then I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew."

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Falk replied hastily. He had to settle into a trot to follow the long steps of the commodore, who was already out of the door. They were following a long, curved corridor lined with windows on one side. The white color of the walls was already graying and on a corner he could actually see the paint chipping, something that just wasn't supposed to be happening anymore. It made him wonder just how old that paint was.

"Since Ricardo is leaving with the same transport you came on, you will be the only engineer around, but our maintenance needs are rather simple," the commodore continued explaining. "You see of the original starbase only this level is actually still in use, aside from the core section that houses the computer core and power plants. Some of the lower levels probably aren't even pressurized anymore and most of the facilities on this level aren't in use either. Also I am sorry to say that life around here isn't very exciting. It can be weeks sometimes until the next freighter comes by."

"I see, sir," Jonathan replied with a mental sigh. He knew he should be glad he was still a member of Starfleet, he hadn't even been demoted, but this was literally the worst punishment anyone could have come up with. While the commodore went on explaining about their limited facilities and the few ships that came around every now and then, he only listened with half an ear, looking out of the window instead.

He had seen Starbase 225 from outside. While the design was visibly old, it was still huge, even by nowadays' standards. Back in its own days it must have rivaled the big stations like K7, or even the Earth Dock. Not so much by the size of the the base itself, but by the intricate network of docks built around it.

It amazed Jonathan how such a gigantic structure could just be left empty. And what was even more amazing were the myriad of small craft, transport vessels and even starships still sitting in the far stretched docking arms.

"Sir, what is with all these ships?" Falk asked, when the commodore paused.

"Oh, that," the other man said, slowing down. "They have been here for decades. Centuries in some cases. You know, this base once used to be a highly frequented trading post with big yard facilities. I think even building strips at some point. But that's a long time ago. Ever since the coalition with the Klingons and the Romulans is stable, the trading routes have shifted towards what previously were border area and Neutral Zone, so hardly anyone ever still comes through here. Enough to keep the outpost up, but not enough to post more than a minimum staff."

The commodore stopped when he noticed that the younger officer had fallen behind. Jonathan was standing at a window, literally pressing his nose flat against the transparent sheet that separated him from the outside. He was staring at something at the very edge of the snowflake-like structure that held the docking slips and realized that the transparent aluminum had to have been purposefully ground to magnify the docks, because the ship he was looking at seemed almost close enough to read her registry off the bow.

To Falk she looked more elegant than any ship he had seen, except in pictures, even while she was moored to the docking arms. The clear-cut geometrical forms were brought out perfectly in untouched white paint against the star-dotted blackness of the space beyond.

"Is everything alright, lieutenant?" the commodore asked in a friendly voice, but Jonathan could also hear a little concern.

"Yes, sir," he replied hastily, but then the lieutenant hesitated and pointed at the ship outside the window. "Sir, is that a Constitution class?"

"Looks like one to me," the commodore replied with a twinkle in his eyes and walked on. "But I'm neither an engineer nor a historian. Maybe one of the ladies can help you with that, so let's go and have me introduce you to them. I think they're already waiting."

"Yes, sir," Jonathan answered and hurried after his commanding officer. What he had seen had just changed his mind. With a little luck, this assignment might change into the best thing that ever happened to him. And it promised to be not boring at all.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter one – Out of the dark**

"Team eta ready," the voice of the woman designated eta-one buzzed in Lt. Commander Nauverre's ear. With a silent sigh he looked around. Although he had been here several times now, it would probably never get any less surreal. And this time his orders were even more drastic than usual, but maybe that would finally set an end to this bizarre business.

For him it was the fifth visit to the small, old cottage in rural Scotland, but if the grapevine going around among the ESD security personnel was to be believed, some poor soul had been sent down here at least twice annually in the last five years. If that was true, Nauverre had not only gotten the lion's share of these visits, but they had also drastically increased in frequency lately.

The first time he had come here had been almost half a year ago, just after he had been transferred to Earth Space Dock from shipboard duty. Back then he had considered the armed security detail of four that had accompanied him overkill, until he had been told off through a closed door and had to return to his superiors empty handed.

Now he had three teams, each consisting of four people in light combat suits with phaser rifles, spread out around the house. Four more similarly armed security personnel stood behind him, waiting for his signal, two armour-plated shuttles were parked in the meadows on either side of the house and he knew somewhere on the space-dock orbiting above a transporter engineer had a fixed lock on their coordinates, preventing their target from beaming out. In a way Nauverre still thought it was overkill, but he also knew from his own experience that so far nothing else had worked.

At least the next neighbour was over two miles away, in case it did come to a shoot-out, he thought with a sigh, then activated his com. "Copy, eta-one," he said. "Alpha team going in."

One young, overzealous ensign had sprinted up the garden path almost before Nauverre had finished speaking, his more experienced colleagues followed at a more moderate speed. They took their places left and right of the front door, while the lieutenant commander walked up in measured paces. There was no need to hurry, he was sure the occupant of the house had already seen him.

When he reached the door, he pressed the bell and could hear a three-toned chime inside. He waited for a while, but nothing happened, so he rung again.

"Captain Toria?" he shouted, after he had tried a third time. "I know you're in. Please open up."

Nauverre waited for an answer, but was only met with silence. "I hereby inform you that we are authorized to use force if necessary," he continued, banging his fist on the door. "Captain, please open the door before we have to break it."

He raised his hand to knock again, but missed the door as it silently swung open inward. Nauverre knew it had to be computer controlled hydraulics, but it still send a cold shiver down his spine.

Cautiously he stepped into the house and found himself in a small entrance hall with doors left and right and a thin spiral staircase winding upwards in one corner. And in front of him stood Captain Toria.

While his team swarmed in around him, surrounding the captain, he took a closer look. Nauverre knew from her file that she was just under 5 feet tall, but he hadn't realized just how small that was effectively. Her skin was black, but not like dark skinned humans. Rather it had a silver shine that gave it an anthracite hue. A stark contrast to that was her hair – although Nauverre wasn't sure it was hair in the original sense of the word – which looked like thin, translucent fibres and seemed to be emitting a faint green glow that framed her face like a halo. Her head was long and thin by human standards, but not disproportionate. Also her face had a warm and friendly quality, but there was an edge in her eyes, the look of a hunter. These eyes were visibly larger than a human's and spaced further apart, set in deep sockets, separated only by a thin, slightly flattened nose. They were dominated by large, round pupils, surrounded by amber irises that shone out of the dark face like a pair of thin golden rings.

"Captain Toria?" Nauverre asked proforma.

"Yes, Commander?" she answered in a clear, ringing voice.

"Captain, you have standing orders to report to Admiral Carter on Earth Space Dock," he explained.

Toria looked back levelly. "Yes, I do."

"Since you have so far failed to comply with these orders, I am here to accompany you," Nauverre continued. "I am authorized to compel you with force, if necessary."

Captain Toria answered with a dry chuckle, "Compel me then."

"Captain, if you continue to disregard your orders, you could face court-martial, discharge from Starfleet,..." Nauverre continued, but was interrupted almost immediately.

"If any of that was to happen, it probably would have happened already," the captain pointed out and Nauverre had to agree. "But so far it hasn't."

The commander sighed inwardly. He had known this wouldn't be easy, but until now he had at least hoped it might be. Still, he had come this far and he was not going to return with empty hands this time. "Captain," he said in a warning voice and took half a step forward, "my orders are to deliver you to Admiral Carter in a condition fit for duty. The admiral has been very clear on that point. But if that means we have to go through Starfleet Medical first and get you patched together again, that's fine by me."

Toria's eyes narrowed, cutting off the top and bottom of the circles of her glowing irises. "You realise that striking a superior officer constitutes a court-martialable offence?"

Nauverre could practically feel the tension building in the room, but he firmly stood his ground. "Until you report to Admiral Carter for active duty, you are not technically a Starfleet officer and therefore not my superior," he retorted coldly. "That aside, Admiral Carter has authorized the use of non-lethal force and as far as I am concerned his orders on that point are valid. And I will use it, unless you come with us peacefully, right now."

Toria smiled, and then almost cheerfully said: "Alright."

Nauverre blinked in confusion. "Ma'am?"

"I'm coming with you," she said, matter of fact. "Don't look so surprised, it's what you wanted, after all."

"Then follow me, please," Nauverre said, once the fact had sunk in that he had won. Still, as they headed to the shuttle waiting outside, his 'prisoner' escorted by four security guards in light combat suits, armed with phaser rifles, he somehow didn't feel like he was in charge.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"All systems check," Jonathan announced and allowed himself a grin as he took a long gaze around the engine room and the assortment of consoles he had pieced together from old junk in the last two years. With a substantial amount of pride in his voice, he added: "She's purring like a tiger cub."

The Constitution Class starship had turned out to be hardly more than a gutted hull, stuck halfway into refit, but today she would leave the confines of the dock again in which she had been stuck probably for centuries. It hadn't been just his work, everyone of the five-man detail stuck on Starbase 225 had quickly started devoting their free time to this project, which each of them had plenty of. Still no one had been as eager to restore the Constitution Class ship to her former glory than Jonathan Falk, and for all intents and purposes, this ship was his baby.

There was a chuckle on the other end. "How do you know what a tiger cub sounds like?"

"Because my sister's working with the Wildlife Preservation Society and I helped her on a rescue a couple of years back, when the habitat on Niergy broke down," Falk answered. "Now, Lt. Reytha, could I trouble you to ask our dear Commodore for official permission to leave the dock?"

"I'm on it, I'm on it," Reytha answered and the com channel went silent for a moment. When the com officer's voice returned, she sounded troubled. "Permission denied."

"What!?" Falk asked, and whirled around, although he was alone in the engine bay. "Why's he doing that now?"

"I don't know," Reytha replied. "Feirill won't tell. But we're told to beam back over immediately. She sounded urgent."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

When Lt. Commander Nauverre and his security team reached the admiral's office in the upper levels of the Earth Space Dock, ESD for short, he didn't even get to knock.

Captain Toria, who had been walking behind him, and indeed come along peacefully the whole way, walked right past him and his security detail into the office. It occurred to Nauverre that this shouldn't technically be possible, because just like private quarters, every office had a visitor alert that notified the owner and locked out anyone who didn't have permission or a security override. But he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and hurried after her into the office.

Admiral Carter was sitting behind his desk, four officers gathered around his workspace. All of them turned to look at the newcomers, as they entered.

"I'm sorry, admiral," Nauverre started, but was interrupted immediately.

"It's alright, commander," Carter replied. "You're dismissed."

Nauverre nodded and left. The admiral gave the already present officers a curt nod, and they, too, headed for the door.

"How nice of you to finally show up," Admiral Carter said dryly once he and Toria were alone.

"It was either that or leaving the planet, the way your security people kept bugging me," the captain replied levelly. "And this seemed to be the lesser effort. But mind you, I could still change my mind."

Carter grimaced. "I hope you won't," he said with a sigh and ran a hand through the slightly longer than brush-cut black hair. "Because I really need your help."

"Well, I'm here now," she muttered and took a seat on the chair in front of the desk. "So what's your big problem?"

"There have been some mysterious disappearances of freighters and the admiralty wants to have the issue investigated," he explained. The captain questioningly raised one hairless eyebrow, and Carter added almost like an afterthought: "In the Nardan sector."

Toria's face darkened. "No," she said without raising her voice, but sharp enough Carter could feel the sting. Before he could do anything, she was almost at the door. "Forget it."

"Toria, wait!" the admiral shouted after her, and although he hadn't thought she would, she turned around, anger sparkling in the bright rings of her irises.

"Please," he added. "Sit down, and at least let me explain."

Toria slowly walked back to the admiral's desk. "You promised me," she said softly, almost inaudibly, but when she leaned her full weight onto his desk, despite her small stature, it made Carter flinch.

"I know," he said squeamishly. "But I'm desperate and you know I wouldn't ask you if I thought I had another choice."

"You promised me never to send me there again," Toria pointed out, but sat back down. "First you take away my ship, and now you send me back there and ask me to like it?"

"That wasn't my choice, and you know it," Carter retorted. "And you can't hide from that promotion for ever."

"I can try," Toria scoffed.

The admiral gave her a sympathetic smile. "Anyway, the reason why I need you is because I need your experience and your special knowledge of the region," he continued, his tone almost pleading. "There's almost fifty freighters gone missing in the past three months, some of them armed transports. Incidents were less frequent before then, but among the freighter captains, that nebula has a reputation like the Bermuda triangle of ancient Earth. Whatever is out there, chances are it's going to be bad, and you're going to be light-years from any sort of reinforcements. That's why I need someone there who can keep it together."

Toria snorted, but then she looked serious, thoughtful. "Why," she asked, seemingly more to herself, "is Starfleet only acting now, if this is a human problem?"

"Because the latest ship that's gone missing came from Eltien Minor," Admiral Carter said flatly.

Toria grimaced. Eltien Minor was home to one of Starfleet's not-so-secret research labs. "I don't like this," she muttered, then sighed. "Which is why I guess I'm going to help you out. But on my conditions."

"You'll get the _Nike_ back," Carter assured her.

Toria conceded the point with a nod, then tilted her head in question. "What about S'mar? Doesn't he currently hold that command?"

"Yes," Carter admitted. "But I thought you'd like to keep him around as first officer."

"You know I'd like to," Toria replied dryly. "But that would effectively be a demotion for him. And while I don't doubt he'd accept it on the spot, that hardly seems fair. Actually I think he's ready for a bigger command. What do you say?"

"So you're shoving your juniors into the promotions you don't want to take yourself?"

"You know my reasons," the captain answered flatly.

"I know," Carter sighed. "And as it happens, the _Starstriker_ is in need of a captain."

Toria nodded approvingly.

"Actually, I've already offered him the position," the admiral continued. "And he even accepted, provided you take command of _Nike_ and find yourself a new first officer."

Toria stared at him hard for a moment. Then she suddenly smiled. "I could, of course, choose whoever I want for that spot," she assumed and something about the way she leaned back in her chair gave Carter a bad feeling. "Right?"

"Provided they are qualified," he agreed cautiously. "And available, of course. This is a time critical mission."

"What about your security lapdog?" Toria asked innocently. Carter answered with an uncomprehending look, and she specified: "Lt. Commander Nauverre."

"Why him?"

The captain shrugged. "Why not? He's got the rank and seniority," she pointed out. "I'm sure he's done shipboard service before. And he's here and clearly available."

"And he's currently posted with another department," the admiral added grimly, thinking of the work he would have to put in to get the transfer through.

"You've managed to draft him for your purposes several times," Toria replied. "I don't think Admiral McArthur is particularly attached to him."

The admiral grimaced. Vice Admiral Valeria McArthur, head of Starfleet Security and therefore also personally responsible for the security of Earth Space Dock and all other stationary Starfleet facilities in the Sol System, was also not very fond of one Rear Admiral Lukas Carter. "Alright," he finally sighed. He stood up and gave her a memo pad. "Report to your ship in three hours, I'll get you your first officer in the meantime."

Toria stood up, too, and accepted the pad with a grateful nod, and an almost concealed victorious smile. "I assume, this contains a list of my command staff for review?"

"Yes," Carter answered, then grimly added: "If you want any changes, tell me within an hour and I'll see what I can do. But try not to make too much of a mess."

Captain Toria gave a curt nod, and briefly stood at attention.

"Dismissed," Carter muttered, but she had already gone.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"What's going on here?" Jonathan asked, looking around in the former commander's office they had converted into a cosy recreation room.

"Bugger if I know," Commander Zaphzrathyr Syourte, Za for short, muttered. The Rhodavian was Chief of Operations and Security and second in command of Starbase 225 in one person. She usually was a fluffy blue-green bundle of sarcasm, but now the long-quilled feathers on her head were half-erect against flattened owl-ears and her glowing red eyes closed to slits, giving her a menacing look. Also, while her chirpy voice always built a contrast to her generally colourful language, there was a growling undertone now that clearly showed her annoyance. "There better be a good reason for getting me up straight after a night-shift."

"I'm very sure there is," Dr. Feirill U'Ore put in. There was a hardly perceptible tremor in her calm, clear voice. "Sora hasn't called for an emergency meeting in years."

"Never, actually, if I remember correctly," the commodore put in from the door. "And I'd have liked to keep it that way, but the admiralty has other plans."

"Excuse my way of speaking, sir," Za chirped. "But admiralty has never cared shit about us out here. Why would they now?"

"Because a freighter from Eltien minor went missing on its way through the nebula," Sora replied. "And we are the closest Starfleet installation."

"And what exactly do they want us to do about it?" Za snorted. "It's not like we have ships. Or the personnel to crew them."

"We do have the Constitution Class sitting out there in the space-dock. I don't know how they know about it, but we have orders to take her on a search and rescue mission," he stated. "As for personnel, they've diverted a transport headed for Risa to us, it should be arriving within an hour. We will still be understaffed, but at least it's something."

"Hold on," Falk said, taking a step towards his superior officer. "You're telling me we're supposed to take the _Connie_ into the nebula?"

"I'm not happy with it, but yes," Sora replied.

"Can I just point out that considering freighters keep vanishing in there, we'll probably be flying into a potentially dangerous situation? Not even counting the hazardous environment we will encounter there," the engineer said. "This ship is not battle ready. We have minimum shields, if any at all, no torpedoes and probably no phasers either."

"And considering you cut short our test earlier, we don't even know if she flies," Reytha put in.

"I know," Commodore Sora said. "But orders are orders. And these came from the very top of the food-chain, so we better follow them."


End file.
